


Adjustments

by fawatson



Category: The Charioteer - Mary Renault
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 22:16:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1874451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laurie's first night at school</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adjustments

**Author's Note:**

> **Mentioned Characters** Lucy Odell, Gyp, Mrs Timmings, Great Uncle Edward, Mr Stuart.   
> **Originally written for** : The Unwritten Charioteer – Chapter Two Writing Project   
> **Originally posted to:** maryrenaultfics on LiveJournal on 22/01/2011  
>  **Prompt** : Laurie’s first night at school  
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters and make no profit from them.

The sheets smelled different – not _bad_ different, just different. Mum kept hers in a cedar chest; obviously these weren’t. And the bed had been made too tight; he noticed every time he turned over. He tried to be quiet so he didn’t disturb the others in the room; but he wasn’t sure he managed it. He’d never had to share a room before, not even when Aunt Olive came to stay. (She always took _his_ room and he slept on the sitting room sofa.) He could hear one of the others snoring. It sounded a bit like Gyp; but somehow he just couldn’t imagine Gyp into the room with him. He wondered how his dog was getting on at home with mother; he’d never been away from him before. He’d never been away from Mum either. Laurie shifted round in bed, trying to get comfortable. His pillow was flat, so he curled his elbow underneath it to raise his head a little. At home he had _two_ pillows. 

The last few weeks had been dominated by today. It had been as if all his experiences up to now were just an overture to going away to school. It had all started a month ago when his mother had taken him to London to be measured for his uniform. Standing perfectly still while the tailor bent and stretched round him with his measuring tape had been very dull; though once that was over he’d amused himself looking at all the different blazers with their smart crests, while his mother had discussed the rest of his needs with a dapper young shop assistant. He’d even tried on a morning coat, dressing it up with a variety of different school ties, until his mother caught sight of him in the mirror and gave him a scolding before apologising profusely to the proprietor. That man, grey haired and wrinkled, had simply smiled, dismissing his prank with a mild, ’boys will be boys’ that told Laurie he was not the first to have tried on the famous Eton uniform, while being kitted out for somewhere less renowned. 

Preparations had sped up last week. The uniform had arrived, and soon after Aunt Olive had too. She and his mother had sat each evening sewing labels on everything. Mrs Timmings had made a tray of fudge. He’d only been allowed one piece before the rest was carefully packed away in a tin lined with wax paper and tucked in the bottom of his trunk, along with another larger tin full of fruit cake. On Saturday, Great Uncle Edward had driven over. He had taken Laurie out to the common to practice; but when he saw his cricket bat it was declared a disgrace; and Laurie had been taken instead on an unexpected trip to Harrogate to buy a new bat (plus, of course, a tin of oil). After tea, Laurie had been taken to one side and spoken to quite seriously about living up to family tradition, before Great Uncle Edward got back into his car and headed home. 

This morning Mum had put on her best hat before they’d set off for the station. Gyp had barked excitedly seeing them put on their outer clothes; he’d had to be tied to the tree in the back garden to stop him trying to follow. Laurie had been too excited to read the magazine Mum had bought him for the journey. Instead he’d sat looking out the railway carriage window as the train took them south. They’d had a hasty cup of tea in the waiting room when they’d changed trains. He’d scalded his mouth drinking it too quickly when their train was announced. 

And then finally they were there. The station had been a confusion of boys, parents, trunks, suitcases and noise. The school had sent a coach. They’d had to wait until it returned twice before they got to the front of the queue and were able to board. After that everything had transformed into a relentlessly overwhelming roller-coaster of strangeness. At least up till then there had been some familiarity. After all, he’d been on train trips before. But he’d never been to school before – well not this kind of school. The imposing red brick building at the top of the long straight drive intimidated in the way his prep school never had. All the boys and their parents had been shepherded through the massive white stone portico. In the hallway beyond the older boys had been separated off. Newcomers like him had been directed to a huge hallway, where a tall imposing man in a black academic gown gave a brief speech, before reading a roll-call of names and announcing houses. He was to be in Stuart’s. 

His mother had been ushered into a large airy room for some tea, while he and the other new boys had been taken on a long march round the grounds by a couple of prefects. At least, that is how it had felt. In a distance he had seen several other boys, clearly older, but not as old as the prefects escorting them, practicing cricket. (Their play looked pretty decent and he felt warmly grateful to Great Uncle Edward for providing a decent bat.) As soon as he returned from the tour of the grounds it had been time to say good bye to Mum. Then there’d been unpacking, then dinner, another speech (this time from a short thin man with a pale complexion whom someone said was the House Master), and finally bed. 

And here he was. He’d got into bed without saying his prayers; no one else had been saying them and he hadn’t wanted to be different, so he’d climbed in and said them under his breath after he’d pulled the covers up. He’d been lying here trying to go to sleep for what felt like hours. The clock striking in the quadrangle outside told him it had just been an hour, though. It was all just so different.


End file.
